“I
… I hoped I’d …”
“I’m here, amn’t Oi?”
“Yeah, but …oh, Keith!”
Keith’s accent had strengthened as
it always did when he was emotional. “Oi
remember after Tom took mai in. Oi was
grateful—don’t think Oi wasn’t—but Oi wasn’t in love with him. Oi didn’t even love him, Oi think. Oi was just a hardened street punk. But hai was koind to mai. He wasn’t in love with me, come to think of
it. He felt sorry for mai. And of course there was sex. But he was koind. Moind you, he didn’t put up with any shit
from mai. But he … he showed he cared,
that he loiked me for more than my cock and arse. That he loiked me. For me.
And ya kanow, Ezz, ya can tell what a man is loike from what he’s loike
in bed. Shows ya what hai’s loike in his
heart.”
Esmé thought about that. Keith had always been kind and caring in
bed. When she’d been unable to make
love—like normal people,
she thought bitterly—he’d been totally unfazed.
He’d made sure she’d had pleasure in bed. He’d been affectionate and
loving.
“Oi love Tom. And he loves mai. But he doesn’t mind about you and me.”
“He knows?” Esmé was furious and embarrassed.
“Hai’s part of my loife, Ezz. Of course he knaows. But only that I’m sweet on ya.”
Esmé looked stricken.
“Not the details,” Keith added
quickly, guessing what Esmé was imagining.
“That’s proivate between you and me.”
Esmé looked at him, doubting.
“Ya think Oi’d tell him about our
proivate stuff? Have Oi taold you
anything about him and mai? What we do?”
“No. No you
haven’t.” All of a sudden Esmé wondered
exactly what they did in bed. She’d
never asked Luke what men did. But then, he wouldn't know, because he'd never had anyone. Or had he? And now
she wondered. What exactly happened with
bums and cocks and stuff? Exactly?
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